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"But why me?" asked Madeleine. "Do I have to do it?"

"You must," said Mrs Whatsit. "Your world is in grave danger. Very, very grave danger. You have to warn them."

"But I don't know how!" exclaimed Madeleine angrily. "What is this danger? How am I going to explain it? It's impossible!"

"Certum est quia impossibile est," said Mrs Who. "It is certain, because it is impossible. Latin. Tertullian."

"Wwe wwill hhelp yyou," interrupted Mrs Which. "Iff onlyy yyou ddidn't iinsist on uusing wwords..."

"You see!" said Madeleine. "You tell me I have to write a book, and you don't even know what words are! You're horrible! I hate you!" Tears filled her eyes.

"Now, now," murmured Mrs Whatsit. "It's much better than you think. The words are all there inside you already, you just have to find them. If you don't mind, my dear, I will just take a little look through your memory."

Suddenly, Madeleine had the strangest feeling. All the books she had ever read were lined up inside her mind like a huge library. And there was Mrs Whatsit, moving through the shelves with her, pulling down a book here and a book there...

"You see?" asked Mrs Whatsit after a time. "That was quite easy, wasn't it? I'm sure Out of the Silent Planet will be useful, and of course That Hideous Strength. Good old C.S. Lewis! And Olaf Stapledon's Star Maker. We want that lovely dance of the stars, don't we? Then we'll take Charles Wallace out of Odd John, and I think some Robert Heinlein and just a little bit of Plato, and now all you have to do is put them together!"

A moment later, Madeleine found herself sitting in front of her typewriter. The words poured out of her, as she covered sheet after sheet. More quickly than she would have believed possible, she found there was a thick manuscript on the desk. Dazed and astonished, she picked it up and began to read through what she had written.

"But it's terrible!" she said, in bitter disappointment. "So sloppily constructed! Such a lack of feeling for the English language! And it doesn't even make sense! None of it sticks together!"

"Goddag, yxskaft," agreed Mrs Who. "Hello, ax-handle. Swedish. Saying indicating lack of coherence."

"You must have faith," said Mrs Whatsit serenely. "You may think it's terrible, but millions of children will love this book. They won't worry about the words. They will see the truth behind them."

"On ne voit bien qu’avec le cœur. L’essentiel est invisible pour les yeux," said Mrs Who. "You only see truly with the heart. What is important is invisible to the eyes. French. Saint-Exupéry."

"It won't work," muttered Madeleine. "I'll send it to the publisher if you like, but they'll just reject it. They'll say it's silly."

"Then send it to another publisher," said Mrs Whatsit. "And another, and another, until you succeed. Listen, Madeleine. The foolishness of God is wiser than men; and the weakness of God is stronger than men. For ye see your calling, brethren, how that not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called, but God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty. Now do you understand?"

"No," said Madeleine uncertainly; but she found that her fingers, all by themselves, had taken an envelope, put the manuscript into it, and addressed it to a publishing house in the city.

"Ggood ggirl," said Mrs Which. "Nnow wwe hhave tto ggo. BBut wwe'll bbe bback."